


The Odd Couple

by Staalkers (starttheshow)



Series: Strange Love [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starttheshow/pseuds/Staalkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Patrick Kane and Sidney Crosby have some feelings and everything goes to hell, but then it gets better, maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Okay, so Patrick does watch Sid drive away, and he might stay in the same spot Sid left him until Geno’s car is but a pinprick in the distance, and maybe still a bit longer after he’s lost all sight of them, but it’s definitely not because he’s sad to see him go, or anything stupid like that.

Patrick just wanted confirmation that Crosby was truly gone, and not coming back to be totally annoying because that’s what he is, super annoying, and a nuisance. Thank the hockey gods he’s gone.

When he’s satisfied that that’s the last he’ll see of Sidney Crosby, Patrick goes back inside his empty house. It’s completely dark inside. Sid has this weird thing about turning lights off when no one needs them because of conserving energy or something stupid like that.

So Patrick goes through every room, systematically turning on every light. And when his task is finished, Patrick returns to the living room, feeling no more complete than when he began.

Patrick plops down on the couch with a sigh and pulls out his phone. Now that Sid’s left him, he can totally have fun again and kick it with his boys.

He calls Sharpy first.

“Patty Cakes,” he greets upon answering the phone.

“Asshole,” Kaner replies.

“Aww, what’s wrong with Princess Pat?”

“Nothing dickwad, wanna come over and party?”

“Sure man, Sid up for it?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t even matter. He ain’t here no more.”

“Oh, he’s out for walk or something? But we’d probably have to go when he gets back. Cool anyways.”

“No man, you’re not listening, dude’s gone. Malkin came and picked him up this morning. I never have to see him again, except for those like five times a year we play them.”

“Oh shit Patrick, he’s gone gone? I am so sorry man, no wonder you’re so cranky. Of course I’ll come over, shit. What can I do? Do you want be stop and get ice cream? We can eat it while watching Twilight, the second one, where all the werewolves have their shirts off, if that’d make you feel better man.”

“Whoa, whoa. Calm the fuck down Sharpy. First off, fuck you I’m cranky. Also, I don’t give a fuck that Crosby’s gone. You really think I enjoyed babysitting his ass? It doesn’t bother me that he’s gone, period. But I will still take you up on the Twilight and ice cream offer, not because I’m upset, but because those are two of my favorite things.”

“Sure man, what ever you say. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Cool, and I’m inviting the other guys also, so get enough for Seabs if you can afford it.”

“Bye, Peeks.”

Sharpy hangs up. Patrick calls everyone else, and the conversations with them are pretty much the same as the one with Sharpy. Patrick Kane can not figure out for the life of him, why everyone thinks he’s dying on the inside because Sid left. Just because he lived with a guy and took care of him for a couple of months, it doesn’t mean he got attached or anything like that. He is totally fine with not starting his days with breakfast with Sid and ending them by telling him goodnight; Patrick got by just fine without him, there’s no reason he needs Crosby now.

The guys all make their way over, and they settle in to watch the steamiest Twilight movie. Patrick’s finally getting to enjoy some quality time with the boys, something he hasn’t been able to do because of Sid The Kid’s constant need for being taken care of, when Johnny decides to ruin everything.

“I can give you his number if you like Kaner,” he says, totally interrupting the movie.

“What? Who’s number, Robert Pattinson or Taylor Lautner? You have their numbers and haven’t told me this before?”

Wow, asshole has been holding out on him.

“He means Sidney’s, stupid,” Seabs says, grabbing them remote and pausing the movie.

“Hey,” Patrick says, kind of annoyed the asshole decided that he can go around touching other people's remotes, but not so mad that he stopped it with Lautner standing on screen shirtless. Boy can be his alpha anytime he wants.

“Okay, time for a serious talk about your feelings, yeah, gross I know, but seeing as you are obviously in denial, it is our duty as friends and teammates to help you out. No matter how unsavory the task may be,” Sharpy says. He shifts his seat on the couch next to Patrick to face him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not in fucking denial. You guys are just assholes reading too much into things.”

“Okay Pat, if we’re reading too much into things,” Johnny says. “then why haven’t you been spending time with us?”

“Because Sid needed me, duh.”

“Exactly, you gave up on doing things you wanted to do to take care of Sid, no offense, but the Kaner I know is kind of selfish and wouldn’t normally do that for just anyone.”

“Fuck you, I’m a good person. Just because I did the right thing, it doesn’t mean I like Sid or anything like that.”

“Okay, then why did you switch colognes.”

“My other one was too strong for Sid, he liked this one better.”

“Hm....”

“Fuck you, the other one gave him a headache.”

“I told you it made my head hurt thousands of times, but you didn’t switch.”

“That’s because you were being whiny.”

“And Sid wasn’t?”

“Fuck you, he’s not actually that whiny, assholes just keep perpetuating the rumor and giving him a bad name.”

“And now you’re defending his honor.”

“You know what, fuck you, get out my house. I don’t want to play this game no more.”

“Okay Kaner, just one more question. Why are his clothes still here?”

“When did you have time to go through my shit? Fuck you.”

“Shawzy did it, now answer the question.”

“Fuck you man,” Patrick says glaring at Shawzy, slightly betrayed. “Fine. His clothes stayed in case he comes back, okay, but not because I want him to come back, if Malkin makes me house him again.”

“By letting his clothes stay here, you’re making it easier for him if he does come back, whether you ask him to return or not, showing that you are subconsciously not that opposed to the idea,” Duncs chimes in.

“Fuck you, since when were you a psychologist? You know, this was supposed to be a celebration of my being liberated from Sidney Crosby, but so far, you assholes have completely ruined it, I hope you’re all happy,” Patrick says, crossing his arms and pouting only a little bit.

He was truly looking forward to enjoying one of his favorite movies with his friends, but no, they just had to have a serious conversation and bring up all these feelings that Patrick doesn’t want to deal with.

“Hey Kaner,” Shawzy says, finally deciding to join in the conversation. “How about we leave and give you some time to like think about what we’re saying so that you can come to a realization or something, okay?”

“Um, you don’t get to talk. You just lost your favorite rookie status.”

“To who?”

“Bollig.”

“What? Please no. He is going to be so fucking smug about. I am so sorry, just not him, anyone but him.”

“Too late, you were supposed to serve me, not these assholes.”

“Kaner,” Johnny snaps. “He’s trying to help you realize just how stupid you are for not being able to figure out on your own how much you like Sid. But he’s right, we should go. Bye, man.”

Kaner’s ex-bestfriends file out of his house, patting him on the back and giving him these douchey reassuring looks. He slams the door behind them because sometimes the best way to get your point across is to act like an over emotional teenager.

Kaner finishes the movie, and the ice cream alone, and feels horrible about himself afterward. He just completely fucked up his diet, the trainers would be so pissed if they knew. Sid would give him so much shit for it also. Sid would probably make him go work out for like five hours to try and reverse the damage done.

He should probably go work out right now.

Patrick goes to his home gym and checks the far wall by the free weights. Its covered with post-it notes that Sid filled out with work out tips and recommended exercises for him to do.

They’re color coded, purple for endurance, blue for strength, green for stretches, and yellow for the things Sid thinks he should really focus on. Its kind of weird, but they’re actually kind of helpful. Sid was kind of right about him needing to work on his quads.

So Kaner picks his exercise and hops on the treadmill to warm up.

Normally right now, Sid would be on the bike criticizing his play, or telling him what he did well in his last game. That’s all Sid really liked to talk about, hockey, but sometimes, if Patrick got lucky, Sid would tell him some weird story. A lot of crazy shit has happened to Sidney Crosby, which is only made stranger by the fact that he was completely sober in every story.

Patrick should totally try and get Sid to tell him about the times he was drunk. He’s best friends with a Russian, he has got to have been wasted at least once. Next time they hang, but no, because there will be no next time because Kaner’s done with Crosby, yeah, he’s never going to talk to him again.

Maybe not never.

He’ll talk to Sid, yeah. That’s the polite thing. He just won’t live with him any more. It’s okay if they’re cool with each other, it wouldn’t be that bad.

In fact, wouldn’t it be best if he kept in contact with Sid? If he didn’t, Malkin’s twisted mind would probably see it as them having relationship problems if they never talk, which it totally wouldn’t be because they’re not in a relationship, and then he would decide that they would have to do something extreme like live together again.

Therefore, it would be in Patrick’s best interest to maybe call Sid once in awhile, and it won’t be because he likes the guy. He’ll lose this battle to win the war of never having to see Sid’s face for an extended period of time ever again.

Okay, so its settled, he’ll get Sid’s number from Johnny.

[][][]

The next day at practice, Kaner has no clue what’s the best way to broach the subject.

Is there a way he can ask for Sid’s number without Johnny reading too much into it? Maybe that’s the problem, he has to ask for it, but if he didn’t do that, then no one would have to know.

Johnny does keep his phone in the same place, right out in the open. And he is always the last one out the shower, leaving time for someone to go through his phone if they were so inclined to do so. And if Patrick just so happens to be that person, its only because he’s bored, and it’s okay, no one would be surprised.

So it’s a plan.

Everything’s going smoothly; Johnny’s taking a year to shower and the rest of the guys have cleared out the locker room. He coolly walks over to Johnny’s locker and picks his phone up from the bench. Now to check the contacts, and fuck, D-bag locked his phone.

Okay, this shouldn’t be that hard to fix. Johnny is so fucking predictable. First he tries Johnny’s birthday, then Johnny’s mom’s birthday, his own birthday, they date of when they won the cup, when the Blackhawks were founded, and fuck none of them work, Johnny’s gotten crafty.

“Kaner, what are you doing?”

Oh fuck.

“Johnny, hey man, someone left their phone.”

“Kaner, that’s mine.”

“Oh really now, that’s good. Since when did you start locking it man, I was trying to figure out whose it was, but its yours, so that’s good. Okay, bye then.”

“Stop,” Johnny commands and grabs Kaner’s shoulder. “You knew it’s my phone. What were you trying to do? I hope you weren’t trying to prank me again, because that was in no way funny the last time.”

“What? No, never Johnny. I wouldn’t do that to you. Twice.”

“Then what the fuck were you doing? Sorry Kaner, but I in no way trust you.”

“I was just trying to get a number, okay man?”

“Sid’s?”

“No fuck face, your mom’s.”

“You know Patrick, it’s okay, you can have it if you want.”

“Well I know that Johnny, but I still don’t fucking want it.”

“Just give me your phone.”

“I super don’t want his number,” Kaner says handing it over.

“Mmmmhmmm, here.”

“Okay, thanks I’m not going to call him because I want to okay. It’s to keep Malkin happy, okay?”

“Okay,” he says with a disbelieving smile. “Bye, Pat.”

Okay, that went well. He’s got Sid’s number, and he’s pretty sure Johnny doesn’t think he’s in love with the guy, anymore than he already did.

Johnny really did give him Sid’s number. It’s right there in his contact list. He can call Sid with just a push of a button. He doesn’t though. Patrick spends half the night staring at and finally tosses his phone across his room when he’s too tired to stay awake any longer.

He should have know Johnny was going to try and talk about it the next day at practice.

“Did you call Sid?” He asks, gliding over to Patrick.

“No.”

“When are you?”

“Never.”

[][][]

Never only really last about a week for Patrick.

They just won their away game against the Sharks and he’s chilling in the hotel room watching TSN when they announce that Sid’s cleared for contact and that he’s going to be playing in their next game against the Senators.

They play a clip of him at practice. He’s laughing and skating. He looks good.

Patrick pulls out his cell phone and looks at Sid’s number. His thumb hovers over the call button.

He doesn’t want to give Sid the wrong idea by calling, but it’s only polite to call and like congratulate him or something. Patrick doesn’t want to be rude, so he calls.

It rings four times before a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Sid answers.

“Who this?” Comes a Russian voice.

“Malkin?”

Does Sid have him take all his calls?

“Yes, who this?”

“Uh, Patrick Kane. Is this not Sid’s number?”

“Oh, Patrick Kane! No, yes is Sid’s number. He just not like to answer unknown numbers. Is very good for you to call. I put Sid on phone.”

“Um, okay.”

Kaner hears some rustling and the phone changing hands before Sid’s voice pops on the line.

“Uh, hey Patrick.”

“Hey Sid.”

Crap, Patrick has no fucking clue what to say. The line goes dead quiet and it’s getting really fucking awkward.

“Why did you call me?” Sid finally asks.

“Um, I saw you get to play again.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Well okay.”

“Okay. Do you have anything else to say, or can I hang up?”

“Um, no.”

“No you don’t have anything else to say, or no I can’t hang up, be more clear.”

“Um, that was all I wanted to say.”

“Okay. Should I save your number, or are you never going to call again?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Okay, that’s a maybe, I’ll save it. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Sid hangs up and Patrick is left staring at his phone. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Sid’s just as bad at conversations over the phone as he is in real life. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headboard.

This is the guy he’s currently somewhat infatuated with.

Patrick will begrudgingly admit to infatuation, that he can accept. After having a few, what could be considered wet, dreams about Sid’s mouth and realizing that whenever he sees him, his eyes always end up drawn to his huge ass, Patrick began to worry that the guys had been right about him being in love with hockey robot Sidney Crosby, but then he did some googling and came across the term infatuation.

Infatuation doesn’t mean he holds any deep feelings for the guy like some people like to suggest. He’s just kind of obsessed with Sid in a completely sexual way, which Patrick is pretty sure isn’t that bad because tons of other guys have had to have fantasized about Sid’s perfect lips wrapped around their cocks plenty of times, so he’s not the only one. Besides, according to the internet, infatuation at some point always ends. He’s just going to have to wait it out.

Johnny returns to the hotel room and breaks Patrick from his thoughts.

“Hey, you call Sid?” Johnny asks and starts stripping.

“Yeah dude, and put some clothes on, no one here’s impressed.”

“That’s good, how was he? You know Kaner, you could also have a body like mine if you put in some effort.”

“Guess he’s fine, shit conversationalist though. And fuk you, I’m sexy and I know it.”

“He’s probably not used to talking to you over the phone, call him more, it should get better. Also,” he says, tugging off his shirt. “You’re tacky and I hate you.”

“Okay, but what if it doesn’t? And isn’t that from School of Rock?”

“Just keep trying, this is something you two need to figure out for yourselves.It’s up to you and Sid to make this work, and if all else fails, I guess there’s always texting, maybe you could Facebook him. And yeah, Seabs made me watch it with him.”

“Thanks, I guess, even though there’s nothing for us to make work. Good movie.”

“Yeah, now shut up and let me workout.”

[][][]

Patrick thinks about what Johnny said, and decides to call Sid again after his comeback game against Ottawa. It was an off day for Patrick so he is able to watch the whole thing.

It’s a home game for the Pens, and the crowd erupts as soon as Sid’s skate touches the ice. The Pens win 3-0, Sid doesn’t score, but he assists the first goal. He looks good. Patrick gives him two hours before calling.

“Uh, hi Patrick,” Sid says answering the phone.

“Hey Sid. Good game.”

Patrick gets up from the couch to go grab a Gatorade and sit down at the kitchen table.

“Thanks. You didn’t play today.”

“That’s right, Sid. Sometimes they give us breaks in between games to get rested.” Patrick patronizingly says, taking a swallow of Gatorade.

“I know that, buttface. I just meant that I couldn’t return the compliment because you didn’t do anything today. Are you drinking something? I can hear you swallowing, it’s disgusting, stop it.”

“Wow Sid, did you really just call me a buttface? I see you don’t hold back when it comes to insults. What was it you called Giroux? A pussy-twat-cake? Now that’s hurtful. And I did lots today, thank you very much.”

“That guy’s an asshole. And you probably didn’t do anything productive. Are you still doing the exercises I suggested? I can send you some more.”

“Well what do you expect, he is a Flyer. And, um, sure. I think I’m going to start focusing on my core some more. And I’m always productive, in the best way.”

“Losing at video games doesn’t count as productive. I’ll email you some suggestions later.”

“Ouch Sid, if I knew you were going to be this mean, I wouldn’t have called. Also, fuck you, I’m a winner.”

“Um, sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Shit. This conversation is dying a slow, painful death.

“Um, tell me something Sid,” Patrick says, in an attempt to make this phone call better than the last.

“What?”

“Anything, just keep talking. I have nothing better to do than listen to you ramble on about your life.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, now tell me a story about some crazy shit that happened to you.”

“Recently?”

“Sure, I don’t care, just say something.”

“Well, um, okay, but what about a story from the past?”

“Sure, sure, yeah, sounds great.”

“But what are you interested in?”

“You, just tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”

“I actually dated someone before, I had a girlfriend when I was younger.”

“Oh, was she pretty?”

Should that really be Patrick’s first question, is she pretty, what does it matter? She probably wasn’t.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s um, surprising.”

That was probably all there was to her though, her looks. She probably wasn’t a hockey god, or hilarious, or the most funnest.

“Did you kiss her?” Patrick asks. Malkin said that Sid was a kissing virgin before in the elevator incident, but what if he didn’t know about her?

“No, too young.”

“Too young to kiss? How old were you?”

“Six.”

Oh, that explains it. Everyone had a kindergarten girlfriend, girls were easy back then, all it took was a cookie and not pulling their hair.

“Dude, that doesn’t count. Every dude who wasn’t an asshole had a girl in kindergarten, I had like eight. Ladies love me bro.”

“No, it does count. We were in a real, committed relationship.”

“Let me guess. You would push her on the swings, give her all your cookies, make sure that no one else got her favorite toys first, and do a whole bunch of other shit for her.”

“We didn’t have a swing set.”

“Okay, ignore that, but dude, she still used you.”

“Oh.”

“But no worries, all chicks do it man, that’s life.”

“So I guess the only person who has ever liked me is you.”

“I don’t like you,” Patrick says quickly.

“Oh. Okay. Goodbye then.”

Sid hangs up abruptly, and Patrick’s really starting to wonder if that guy knows anything about proper phone etiquette.

[][][]

Sid stops answering Patrick’s calls and it’s starting to get really annoying. Who does that guy think he is? Crosby should be fucking grateful that someone as awesome as Patrick would even give him the time of day.

What if Malkin’s having him play hard to get or some other bullshit like that? It’s the only thing that make sense. Well fine then, Kaner just won’t call, see how he likes being ignored.

Forgetting Sid, Patrick’s life is pretty great right now, except for the part where he’s totally distracted and kind of sucking at hockey and everything else. It gets so bad that Johnny tries to have a talk with him during practice.

“Hey buddy,” Johnny says skating over to Patrick with a concerned look on his face. This can’t be good.

“Uh, hey, Johnny,” Patrick says already hating the conversation.

“You know, you haven't been playing to your full potential lately.”

“Yeah, I know man, been kind of distracted lately, but it’s cool, I got a handle on it, now go away.”

“Is it Sid? I told you it’ll take some time, but don’t let it affect your game, it’s not professional.”

“It’s not fucking Crosby, man,” he says, playing with the loose thread at the bottom of his practice jersey. “I haven’t even talked to that guy in like ever.”

“Don’t be a quitter, Kaner, you better fucking call him.”

“I do! Well, I did, but he stopped answering my calls so I decided not to waste my time.”

“What did you do?”

Johnny sounds mad, fuck that guy. Kaner didn’t do anything wrong. Just because Crosby’s being moody, doesn’t mean he did anything.

“Nothing, asshole, don’t blame me for everything. Maybe it’s just that time of the month?”

“He won’t answer any of your calls? Text him.”

“Ignores those also.”

“My god, Kaner, you’ve really fucked up.”

“Fuck you, no I haven’t.”

He totally hasn’t. Sid’ll get over whatever it is that’s got his panties in a bunch, but just to help speed along the process so he can prove Johnny wrong, Kaner starts calling again.

It takes a while, but Sid does eventually answer. He’s sitting at home watch the Pens play the Flyers in their last regular season game. The Hawks had theirs two days ago, and things are looking good for them. Regular season ended strong for them and they’re most likely facing the Sharks in the first round. Patrick’s pretty confident they’re going all the way this year.

The Flyers game is rough, to put it in the simplest of terms.

The glass rattles and somehow manages to stay in place as bodies are slammed into it with the single intent of causing pain, and the Flyer friendly crowd roars every time a Penguin player crumples to the ice.

The Flyers are thirsting for blood, and it’s kind of starting to make Patrick a little queasy.

And of course, they’re targeting Sidney. It seems that every other hit is against him, even a couple of times when he doesn’t even have the puck. Kaner is definitely furious, mostly because of the dirty play reflecting poorly on the game of hockey as a whole, but maybe also the seeing Sid hurt part.

As soon as the game ends, Patrick has his phone in hand and scrolling down to Sid’s number, but he stops himself. Even if Sid was taking his calls, he wouldn’t answer his phone that soon after a game. He needs to like shower and do other press stuff, so Patrick’ll just have to practice some breathing exercises and wait.

In the middle of him taking deep breaths and counting to eight, Kaner’s phone goes off and totally ruins his chill. Patrick scrambles to retrieve it from the corner to which it had been banished for tempting him to call too soon, and nearly dies when when caller ID tries to tell him that Sid’s calling.

“Hello,” Patrick breathes, really hoping this isn’t just Johnny trying to get some payback for past pranks.

“Hi Patrick,” comes Sid’s long awaited voice.

“Hey Sid.”

For once in his life, Patrick Kane is at a lost for words. Fuck.

“Hey.”

“You were amazing, Sid, I mean, I watched your game and you were really good. Are you okay? They hit you pretty hard a couple of times.”

“I made out with Claude Giroux in a dimly lit hallway.”

“What?” Patrick gasps and has to fight his first reaction to hurl his phone against the wall.

“After the game I got lost trying to find the parking lot and ran into Giroux. Then we made out, in a dimly lit hallway,” Sidney says slowly, as if Patrick was too stupid to understand it the first time.

“What the fuck, Sid, why?”

“Because I wanted to and there was no reason for me to not to.”

“Like fuck you didn’t have a reason not let Giroux shove his slimy tongue down your throat!”

“Is there?”

“Yeah.”

What the fuck is wrong with Sidney? Patrick gets up from his bed and starts pacing back and forth across his room. His heart beats way too fast and his hand clutches the phone way too tight. Maybe if he had practiced those breathing exercises a bit harder, he wouldn’t be feeling like his lungs forgot how to function properly.

“Like what, Patrick?”

“Well he’s a Flyer for one thing, and an asshole, and a ginger, those things have no soul, I hope you know.”

“Is that all?”

“Do you really need any more reasons?”

“No, Patrick.”

“Okay good, so you’re through with that jerk off. What other crazy shenanigans you get up to this week?”

“I’m still seeing Giroux if I want to, I just meant you could stop giving me your shitty reasons not to.”

“God fucking damn it, Sidney!” Patrick yells. He kicks his nightstand and the picture of his family falls off. Patrick leaves it and goes to punch a wall, he’s still not feeling better.

“I can do what I want Patrick.”

“Fuck, I know Sid,” Patrick says and goes to ice his fist. “But, please just don’t.”

“Why? Wait, no, doesn’t matter. None of this is any of your business.”

“You know it fucking is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Fuck, Sid,” Patrick curses one last time at him before finally flinging his phone against the wall where it falls to the ground in pieces.

“Shit,” Patrick curses and goes and grabs himself three beers, nowhere near enough to drown his sorrows good, but enough to get them uncomfortably wet, it’s a start.

That phone conversation was not what Kaner expected.

The worst part of that exchange had to have been the panic Patrick felt at the thought that Sidney might be interested in someone else.

But why does it matter? He and Sid aren’t anything. Maybe acquaintances and halfway friends, but still no. Giroux needs to back the fuck off, Sid’s his. Patrick already marked him, now Giroux’s creepin’ in on his territory.

Only Patrick gets to corrupt Sid, it’s just not right if anyone else does.

So it’s only the right thing for Patrick to be with Sid forever and ever. You know, seeing as he is the one who tainted him in the first place. Kaner’s just going to have to sacrifice his happiness to do the moral thing, and maybe it isn’t quite so bad. The kid is kind of endearing, and tells some pretty good stories, and actually smells surprisingly nice, and does have the potential to be a pretty good kisser after some practice.

So it’s settled, Patrick’s flying to Pittsburgh to take back what is rightfully his and will make a quick stop in Philadelphia to bash Giroux’s stupid not-boyfriend-stealing face in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending sux, enjoy

Probably if they didn’t serve those tiny bottles of booze on the airplane, Patrick would have sobered up and realized just how stupid his plan is, but they do and he didn’t. When Patrick’s plane landed in Philadelphia, he was somewhat inebriated and sure of only one thing, that it was his new goal in life to kick Giroux in the mouth and win back Sid.

When Patrick arrives at Giroux’s house, he’s almost vaguely sober and thinking a little clearer, but just doesn't give a fuck, he's fighting.

Patrick attacks the doorbell. Mashing it over and over, like the harder and faster he does it, the sooner Giroux will appear. When the door isn’t instantly answered, he moves to pounding. At one point, he even attempts break it down with a roundhouse kick, despite his great strength, it does not work. Giroux probably got his door reinforced with like titanium or vibranium or some hella strong shit.

After the twenty seconds of Kaner spazzing out on the door, it pulled inward to reveal a very displeased Claude Giroux.

“What the fuck. Patrick Kane?” Giroux says, anger fading into confusion.

Patrick had actually planned out what he was going to say on the plane ride over.

First he was going to yell insults at Giroux, after his feelings had been sufficiently hurt, Patrick was going to explain to him all the reasons why he is in no way good enough for Sid, and then Patrick was going to end the discussion with a swift foot to Giroux’s jugular to make him rethink trying to ever steal someone’s important person again.

Patrick was ready to bring tears to Giroux’s eyes, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was an inhuman scream and all of a sudden, he found himself lunging at Giroux and rapping his manly hands around Giroux’s weak and womanly neck.

“What the fuck?” Giroux shouts and pops Kaner right in the eye.

“Gah, that fucking hurt!” Patrick moans in pain and releases Giroux from his death grip to cover his wounded eye.

Cheap fucking shot.

Does this asshole not have any morals, or like, ethics? He knew there was no way Patrick could defend himself when both his hands were tied up in slowly choking the life from him.

Not fucking fair.

“Good,” Giroux growls back and pushes Kaner away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“We got beef.”

Patrick steps forward and digs his index finger into Giroux’s chest, trying to look more intimidating than he feels now that the alcohol is really starting to wear off.

“About what! I don’t fucking know you.”

“Yeah, but you know Sid, and as his original corrupter, I’m here to defend his honor.”

Patrick cocks back his fist, ready to smash Giroux’s face as he originally intended.

“Stop it,” Giroux commands and grabs Patrick’s wrist before his fist could connect with that monstrosity he calls a face. “What are you talking about. My God I don’t want to deal with any of this shit right now. Are you drunk?”

“No,” Patrick says indignantly and pulls his wrist free of Giroux’s childlike grasp.

“You’re not fucking sober.”

“That I will accept.”

“Just get the fuck inside, I don’t want my neighbors to see this shit.”

Giroux grabs Kaner’s collar and pulls him inside. He slams the door behind them and pushes Patrick deeper into the house.

“Hey, hey! Not so rough. I don’t know if I feel safe being alone with you. You might try to force yourself on me like you did Sid!”

“He approached me. Sit.”

Giroux pushes Patrick down onto the couch. He sits on the coffee table in front of Patrick and runs a hand through his grotty ginger locks.

“No he didn’t, he wouldn’t. I didn’t corrupt him that much.”

“What? Why does this even fucking matter. You’re a mess, I hope you know that.”

“I do, but Sidney’s mine. I tainted him in the elevator, now I get him forever because that’s what’s right. So back the fuck off, quit touching my shit.”

Patrick’s getting aggravated again, thinking about the incident in the hallway.

Giroux probably had Sid pinned against the wall as his hands touched every inch of perfect skin on Sid's body and his tongue explored every crevice of Sid's mouth.

That should have been Patrick!

Kaner hops up again, pissed, but Giroux pushes him right back down.

“Shit, are you two really dating? Bryz was saying something, but I didn’t think he actually understood what he was saying.”

“We’re not dating!”

“Oh shit, are you two having problems? I really don’t want to hear about it.”

“We’re not dating, but...”

Patrick drops his face into his hands, and Giroux stands up, looking panicky and really uncomfortable.

“Here, here, get up. Why don’t you go outside and get some fresh air while I call you a cab? Please?”

Giroux grabs Kaner’s forearm and tries to pull him up.

“I think I might love him,” Patrick whispers, and Giroux stops pulling.

“Fuck me,” Giroux groans and sits back down.

“But he’s mad at me and I don’t know why.”

“Um, here’s a crazy idea, but did you try talking to him? You know like, instead of coming here and harassing me?”

“I did!” Patrick shouts frustrated and looks up to glare at him.

“Oh shit, are you crying?”

“No,” Patrick says and wipes away his not tears, and if he were crying, it’d still be totally manly though.

“Here, you know what, because I’m a nice guy, and I can’t stand to watch girls cry -”

“Fuck you.”

“- I’m going to let you spend the night here, then you’re getting a cab to the airport in the morning.”

“Where will I go?”

“Wherever the fuck you want to, technically speaking, you’re a grown ass man, you get to make that decision. Now come one, I’ll show you the guest room, and I don’t want to see your face again till you’re waving bye out the window of a cab.”

[][][]

And that’s how Patrick found himself standing out front of Sidney’s house.

Claude, they’re on a first name basis now, suggested that maybe he should call first, it’s rumored that Sid doesn’t really like surprises, but Patrick knew that wouldn’t work. If Sid knew Patrick was coming, he would have locked himself in Mario’s guest house and hid. Now he has no option but to face him.

Patrick takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He’s kind of surprised that Sid doesn’t have one of those peepholes so he can see who’s knocking before opening the door. Maybe Sid’s not as paranoid as he thought, or maybe not...

“Who’s there,” Sid demands through the door.

Oh, fuck. The truth is not about to get Patrick anywhere here, so he lies.

“Sid, is me. I comes to visit, remembers?”

“Geno?”

“Yes, yes. Now lets me in and we talk about hockey.”

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

“Uh, I sick.”

“Go home if you’re sick, I don’t want it.”

“No, no. Is not that kind of sickness. Is, um, yelling sick! I yell lots and now throat, it hurts, but you no get.”

“Oh, okay.”

And just like that, Sid opens the door. Not taking any chances, Kaner pushes in as soon as he sees the doorknob turning. All his incredible acting would have been wasted if Sid saw it was him and was able to close the door in his face.

“Hey!” Sid shouts. “You’re not Geno!”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Patrick says, hoping the lie didn’t make things worst.

“Get out,” Sid commands and moves to open the door and then most likely force Patrick out of it.

“Wait,” Patrick says, blocking Sid.

“No Patrick, go.”

“I want to talk. Please, just tell me why you’re mad at me. I can fix it.”

“No you can’t, you’d probably just make it worst, because that what you do, make things worst and make things hurt.”

“I hurt you. How?”

Patrick’s kind of horrified at the thought that he somehow hurt Sid, but thinking back, he still has no clue what he could have done. He stopped being mean and is actually trying to make shit work.

“You hurt me with your words,” Sid says, fidgeting uncomfortably. He keeps alternating between scratching his elbow and pulling at his collar. “What happened to your face?”

“Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll tell you.”

Sid scrunches up his face and for a second Patrick’s worried that he’s just going to tell him to fuck off again, but instead, Sid sighs and starts talking.

“That phone call after my first game back and I told you about what I thought was my first and only girlfriend. I said at least you like me, but you said that you didn’t. And the thing is, you’ve said it to me so many times before and it didn’t matter, but that time it kind of hurt.”

“Why?” Patrick asks. He wraps his hand in the bottom of his shirt to stop them from shaking and madly wishes there were also a way to calm his heart.

“Well,” Sid starts, pauses, and then scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t like that you don’t like me. Now tell me what happened to your face. Did you get drunk?”

Sid makes a face at the last question, and Patrick is so relieved now.

“Yep and I went and fought Claude Giroux.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To defend your honor and because he tried to take what’s mine.”

Patrick steps forward, and wrapping his hands around Sid’s biceps, he pulls him closer. Sid’s breathing hitches.

“What?” Sid stammers and he tries to pull away.

“I kind of lied about not liking you Sid, I really do, like a lot.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, why would you do something like that?”

“Because I’m stupid and say things I don’t mean. And from what you were saying, I gather that you kind of like me also.”

“Yeah,” Sid admits and stops trying to wiggle out of Kaner’s grasp.

“Okay, so we both like each other. That’s good, odd, but good.”

Sid and Patrick take a moment to stand in the entryway and look at each other. Patrick’s pretty sure they’re consensually dating know, and when he thinks about it, it only makes sense that they would be together. They are the greatest things to happen to hockey since hockey. Obviously no one else is worthy.

“So, tour?” Patrick says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Uh, I’ll show you the rooms you’re allowed to enter.”

“Some are off limits?”

“Yes.”

“What, do you have a sex dungeon or something you don’t want me to see? It’s okay Sid, I always knew you were a freak,” Patrick says smirking and hip checking him softly.

Sid blushes and ducks his head.

“Not a freak,” he mumbles.

“Sure Sid, now show me your lovely home.”

“Okay.”

Sid leads him deeper into the house, and it’s exactly what Patrick expected. Minimal and in no way homey, but it’s okay, Patrick kind of has this theory that Sid never really moved out of Lemieux's house and that this one’s just a front to keep people from talking.

So he doesn’t really need to worry about Sid living in such a poorly furnished place. Maybe he should take him furniture shopping though, just in case like a reporter or someone is able to sneak a peak in, the lone armchair furnishing the living room might give Sid away.

“Hey Sid, there an IKEA in this hell hole?”

“Pittsburgh is not a hell hole,” Sid says frowning.

“Well it doesn’t have me, and that makes it a terrible place to live.”

Patrick smirks and backs Sidney into a wall, cornering him there. Kaner takes a second to enjoy making Sid squirm, before deciding he’s had enough. Patrick places a kiss on his cheek and then backs off.

“Can we continue with the tour?” Patrick asks still smirking.

Sid scrunches up his face and rubs vigorously at the spot where Patrick kissed his cheek.

“Don’t do that,” Sid whines at him.

“Do what, kiss you? Really Sid. You know that’s like a part of an adult relationship, right?”

Patrick really doesn’t want to pressure Sid into anything he doesn’t want to do, but boy’s got needs god damn it, and Sid’s lips and those faces he makes, Kaner can’t help it.

“No, just don’t surprise me like that. I don’t like surprises.”

“Okay, I’ll warn you first?”

“Do that,” Sid says with a nod. He stops rubbing at his face, turns around, and walks on.

“Kitchen,” Sid announces.

“Do you actually have anything decent to eat?” Patrick asks, looking skeptically at the fridge and cabinets. Sid probably has grosser food than Johnny.

“Yes.”

“Junk food?”

“No.”

“Then you just lied to me.”

“You really should eat that stuff,” Sid says turning on him. “It’s bad for you and then you can’t play well.”

“Yes mom,” Kaner says, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously. You can't eat that stuff any more. You need to be in better shape.”

Wow, is Sid really trying to use his captain voice on Kaner?

Patrick’s fully prepared to tell Sid to mind his own god damn business, when he realizes that his well being might just be Sid’s business now, and the thought of Sid being concerned about him zaps all his will to fight.

“Okay Sid, you’re right.”

Patrick smiles at him fondly and reaches out to brush his fingers across the spot where he had kissed him earlier.

“Don’t do that,” Sid says, scrunching up his face again.

“What, touch you without a warning?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I also have to warn you before I talk to you, before I look at you, before I breathe at you?”

“Why would you breathe at me? That sounds gross, don’t do that at all.”

“You know Sid, you’re kind of weird sometimes.”

“I’m weird? You’re the one talking about breathing on people, now that’s weird. Sounds like something Jordy would do, he’s weird.”

Patrick totally noticed the smile that crept on to Sid’s face when he mentioned Staal. He kind of really hopes now Sid’ll have the same look on his face when talking about him.

“Hey, so, I’m only allowed into the living room and kitchen, or is there more?”

“Well I guess you can use the bathroom.”

“You guess?”

“Well are you going to be here that long, or could you just hold it?”

“I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t want me here Sid.”

“No, it’s good that you came and we talked, I’m just not really used to people over here. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well Sid, by my calculations, you’ve got three days to learn how to be a good host before I have to leave.”

“Oh, are you going to be staying here?”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t have a guest bed.”

“But you do have a bed here, somewhere.”

“Well yeah, mine.”

“Hmm, I guess I can share with you.”

Patrick sighs, but wiggles his eyebrows at Sid a little bit to show his interest.

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” Sid frowns. “We can’t share if you’re going to do something inappropriate.”

“Whoa, I was not thinking about anything like that at all. I just wanted to have a nice place to sleep. You’re the ones with all the dirty thoughts. Pervert.”

Sid snorts at that.

“Takes one to know one,” he retorts.

“So, Sid,” Patrick says, moving a little bit closer. “You admit to being a dirty boy?”

“Please stop saying things like that. Be normal. I will kick you out of my house.”

“Fine, fine,” Patrick sighs, pouting only a miniscule amount, and crosses his arms.

“well um, mmkay, okay then, uh time for bed,” Sid says sounding a little unsure at the beginning, but ending with a decisive nod.

“Dude, it’s like eight o’clock, what are you, five?” Patrick says, first checking his wrist watch for the time, but then remembering he totally forgot how to read analog and pulls out his phone.

“I am a professional hockey player who has a schedule which must be followed. Either you respect it or you find someone else to impose on.”

Sid places both his hands on his hips and stares Patrick down, challenging him to even try to mess up his meticulously planned for optimal results schedule.

Patrick stares right back, sure Sid can kick him out his house, but he’ll miss him, everyone does at some point, and then Sid’ll come crawling right back to him, begging Patrick to fuck up his uber important schedule.

“I can always call Geno.”

“Okay! Bedtime!”

Patrick grabs Sid’s hand and tugs him out the kitchen, like hell he’s letting Malkin ruin Sid and his reunion.

“Stop it, you don’t know where you’re going,” Sid says, shaking his hand loose and taking the lead.

Patrick follows Sid up a flight of stairs and to a room at the end of a depressing, pictureless hallway. You’d think with all that money the guy could have hired an interior designer or taped a photo to a wall, do something to spice up the place.

Sid’s bedroom is a little better than the rest of the house. There are a couple of pictures, him and his family, him and the cup, and him and Geno. The last of which Patrick may have felt was a little, not creepy, but maybe kind of weird.

Sid’s bed is large and the dark, navy blue sheets are perfectly made. On the wall across from it is a large flat screen TV, the usage of which is most likely solely dedicated to the review of plays.

Patrick takes a seat at the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes. He watches Sid’s back as he rifles around in the closet and wonders if the warm domestic feelings he’s getting are a good thing.

Sid walks over to Patrick with flannel pajama bottoms and gray t-shirts in hand.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a set into Patrick’s hands.

They get changed in silence and crawl into bed.

“So...” Patrick says laying on his back and turning his head to look at Sid to the right of him. “I’m definitely not getting laid tonight?”

“No.”

“Can we at least spoon?”

“Hmmmm, fine. But I’m the big spoon.”

Patrick chuckles a bit and turns on his side, back facing Sid. He feels the other man press up behind him and an arm falls across him, pulling him in a bit closer. He decides to ignore Sid’s weird little need for dominance in favor of appreciating the way their bodies fit together so well, the way Sid’s breath feels warm on the back of his neck, and the way he can feels Sid’s heart beating strong in his chest.

[][][]

The next morning Patrick wakes to Sid snoring softly in his ear, and an erection pressed firmly into his lower back.

He flips over to face Sid. Carefully he begins tracing Sid’s face, index finger ghosting over his eyes, his nose, his lips.

But Patrick stops himself.

This is the first time he’s ever done something like cuddle with someone who wasn’t his mom or one of his sisters. It’s a gentle intimacy he’s never shared with anyone outside of his family before, and he kind of really likes it. So of course Patrick finds a way to fuck it up.

Technically he’s an adult, but Kaner will forever be a horny teenager at heart.

So, feeling a bit frisky, Kaner slips a hand down the front of Sid’s pajama bottoms and wraps it around what is no longer the only erection inhabiting the bed.

Sid awakes with a start. A look of horror over takes his face, washing away the peacefulness of sleep that had once resided there.

“What are you doing!” Sid gasps. He flails his arms a bit in an attempt to put some distance between the two of them.

“Well, couldn’t help but notice the situation you’ve got going on in your pants, and decided to give you a helping hand,” Patrick murmurs in Sid’s ear.

Patrick shimmies closer to Sid, closing the gap between them, and slides a hand onto his hip.

“Um, I don’t think I like this very much,” Sid says and tries to pry off Patrick’s hand.

“That’s just because you haven’t tried anything yet. I can make you see God, Sid.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Come on Sid, we don't even have to do that much. Just let me touch you.”

Patrick knows he’s being kind of a dick, pressuring Sid into doing something he doesn’t want to do, but in his defense, it’s been for fucking ever since he’s gotten laid, and is so fucking horny, and kind of excited about being able to tap Sid’s glorious ass, if Sid would just hurry up and get into it.

Patrick crawls on top of Sid, straddling his hips.

“Come on Sid, do I not turn you on?”

“No.”

“Sid...” Patrick whines into the crook of his neck, bending forward to suck at the soft skin. He grinds his erection into Sid’s and the other man lets out a moan. Patrick smirks and pulls back to look at him.

Sid’s face is flushed, his eyes are wide, and his mouth open as he sucks in air.

“You want this Sid, don’t you.”

“I-”

“Oh you so do.”

He goes back to kissing Sid’s neck, but then there’s a hand in his hair pulling his head back, and Sid’s fist slamming into his face.

“Ow! What the fuck Sid!” Patrick yells, rolling off the bed.

“I told you to stop.”

“But you didn’t have to fucking hit me!”

“Obviously I did. And you have lost your bed privileges.” Sid huffs, and walks into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, and the audible click of the lock sliding into place sends the message that he does not want to deal with Patrick right now, loud and clear.

Patrick sighs and throws himself back onto the bed.

So he just fucked up, and oh shit, Sid’s probably going to tell Malkin.

Patrick jumps up and scrambles to the bathroom door.

“Sid,” he kind of shouts, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice. He starts knocking on the door to at least get his attention.

“Hey, hey, Sid. I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, and I promise to never try anything like that ever again okay. I can be considerate of people’s feelings, I’ll do that. Sid? Are you really that mad? I’ll leave, go back to Chicago, if you want.”

Patrick waits for a response and finally hears a muffled, ‘asshole,’ through the door.

“Yeah Sid, yes I am. I just want to make this better. I should go shouldn’t I?”

“Fucking stop that,” Sid says, voice coming loud and clear as he throws open the door to glare at Patrick. “I know you’re not actually going to leave, so stop trying to make me feel bad for being mad at you for being a dick.”

Sid brushes past him and goes down stairs, Patrick follows.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything, I thought you’d want some space! Sorry for trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“Well just leaving wouldn’t fix the problem.”

“Then what will, what do you want Sid?”

Sid pauses for a moment an cocks his head to the side, thinking.

“Come here,” he finally says and gesturs for Patrick to come closer.

Kaner hesitantly does as Sid asks, kind of worried about what's about to go down. Maybe he should run.

Fuck, definitely should have ran.

Sid cocks his arm back and slams his fist into Patrick's one good eye.

“If you ever pull shit like that again, there will be no forgiveness,” Sid informs him, pulling Patrick's moaning form up of the ground by his collar. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now eggs.”

“What?”

Sid sighs and makes an annoyed face. He shoves Patrick to the refrigerator behind him.

“Help.”

“Oh.”

“And whatever else you want in an omelet.”

“Are you cooking me breakfast?”

A smile takes over Patrick’s face at the thought of that, but that quickly ends upon finding out any facial expression hurts now.

“Well I take it, part of being a good host is feeding your guests, right?”

“Indeed it is.”

Patrick grabs the ingredients, and some ice for his face, deposits them on the counter next to Sid, and then takes a seat on a stool to watch.

Even while cooking, Sid is methodical, almost ritualistic even.

First he sets up his station, pulling out two bowls, a cutting board, a whisk, and a knife, then he lines them and the ingredients up across the counter.

He selects his eggs, checking them all, and then laying them out in a straight line to the right of the bowl. He washes and dries each of the vegetable’s and then lines them back up, grouping them by color.

He cracks the eggs, one handed and perfect, and drops the shells into the second bowl. The spices, salt, pepper, garlic, all get shaken twice and then put back into place.

Patrick watches fascinated, but Sid’s anal retentiveness eventually reminds him of Johnny and Patrick realizes, that he should probably give the asshole a call before burst a blood vessel, because someone can’t stand not knowing where everyone is all the time.

“Hey Sid, can I use your phone.”

Sid looks up from his intense cutting of bell peppers to frown at him.

“No.”

“But I need to call Johnny.”

“What’s wrong with your phone?”

“Broke.”

“Mmmm, fine. I think its next to my bed.”

“Thanks Sid.”

Patrick hops off the stool and runs upstairs.

Sid’s cell phone is sitting on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Patrick grabs it and flops down on the bed getting comfortable, might as well, seeing as he’s probably going to have to sit through five minutes of just Johnny yelling at him before he even gets to talk.

Johnny picks up on the second ring.

“Hey Sid,” Johnny greets, sounding happier about a phone call from Sid than any time Patrick has called him.

“Guess again loser.”

“Patrick? Where the fuck have you been! Answer your god damn phone. Why are you on Sid’s? What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Nothiiiiing, God. Why are you always assuming the worst of me? Why can’t I use my boyfriend’s phone without you assuming I killed him or some shit, asshat.”

“First of all, if anyone’s an asshat, its you. Secondly, I didn’t think you kil- Wait, what? He’s your boyfriend, you’re dating? Since when? God damn it Patrick, you need to tell me shit like this.”

“It only happened last night so you should call the fuck down, and I'm telling you now. Also, you’re a nosy asshole.”

“I honestly don’t know what he sees in you.”

“He sees this dick, and that’s enough for anyone.”

“You’ve probably fucked it up already, haven’t you.”

“Slightly maybe, but I’m fixing it.”

“What did you do.”

“I was feeling a bit, um, promiscuous this morning and might have come on a bit too strong.”

“Did you forget the meaning of ‘no’?”

“No, but I might have chosen to ignore it. But I didn’t actually force him to do anything! It stopped before it got to that.”

“Fuck Kaner, he’s probably telling Geno.”

“No he’s not because I’m going to make it better so that it doesn’t have to come to that.”

“How.”

“I do not know yet. But it will be awesome.”

“For your sake, I hope it is, but really doubt it.”

“You know what Johnny, fuck you and your negativity. Now, I’m going to go eat some awesome omelet that my boyfriend made me and you’re probably going to go drink one of your disgusting protein shakes, suck on that.”

“Goodbye Patrick,” he sighs in return, obviously super jealous.

“Peace homo.”

Patrick hangs up before Johnny can give him a lecture on not being offensive, and puts Sid’s phone, perfectly back in place. Patrick takes a moment to prepare himself, determined to show Sid that he is the greatest significant other ever, before going back to the kitchen.

[][][]

Sid’s finished cooking by the time he gets back. Breakfast has been plated, and Sid waits for him at the table.

“Hey,” Patrick tries, taking the seat across from Sid, it’s as good of opening as anything he would have to say right now.

“Hmmm”

“Looks good.”

“Yep.”

“When I called, Johnny was really excited when he thought it was you, then just kind of angry when he found out it was just me.”

“Makes sense.”

Ouch.

Patrick sets down his fork and sighs, he definitely needs to step his game up. He leans back, looks at Sid, and asks himself, what would Edward, able to land and satisfy the hottest of chicks, Cullen do?

That’s when it hits him.

“Sid, I’m taking you on a date.”

If Bella were ever mad at Edward, he’d just whisk her off some place romantic. Patrick may not be able to carry Sid up like a mountain or something to watch the sunset, but Sid probably wouldn’t like that and anyways, he’s rich, Patrick can just buy an awesome date.

Sid stops eating to give him a look.

“I’m not going bowling again.”

“Hey, that date was planned under duress. Without Malkin breathing down my neck I can plan something good.”

He hopes.

“Fine, it better be.”

“You will not regret it.”

Patrick really, really hopes.

[][][]

Half an hour later, they’re driving aimlessly in through Pittsburgh as Patrick gives Sid directions to nowhere, because someone wont let anyone else drive his car.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Sid whines.

“Yes, yes. Now go right. This would be so much easier if you’d just let me drive.”

“No. Are we there yet?”

“Almost. Um, left. Okay. Here!”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Come on, you’ll love it. Way better second date.”

The zoo is better than bowling right?

With skepticism and displeasure showing clearly on his face, Sid turns into the zoo’s parking lot, making sure to shoot Patrick a dirty look when paying to park.

“Come on Sid, it’ll be fun. You, me, and like animals and shit,” Patrick tries, smiling at him encouragingly. Patrick hops out the car.

“You know, Geno’s told me what a good date is like, and this isn’t one of them,” Sid replies, and exits the car with much less enthusiasm.

“Well Sid, you’re not on a ‘good’ date,” Patrick rebuts, making sure to add air quotes around the ‘good.’ “You’re on a Patrick Kane date, that’s even better.”

“It’s something,” Sid grumbles.

“Come on, I want to see the monkeys. Hey! Maybe they’ll let you hold one of the penguins.”

Patrick grabs Sid’s wrist and starts dragging him along to the entrance, he may have gotten himself excited about the zoo.

[][][]

“Sid, Sid, look, look!”

“Yes Patrick, I see the lion,” Sid sighs and studies the map of the zoo a bit more. “Come on, I want to see the otters.”

“Why would you want to do that, lions are so much cooler.”

“I like otters.”

“Fine,” Patrick huffs and crosses his arms, but follows Sid as he leads the way to the otters nonetheless.

On their way to the otters, Sidney is absolutely engrossed with the zoo map, so of course he doesn’t notice when Patrick is grabbed and pulled into the reptile house.

“What the fuck!” Patrick shouts, flailing at his attackers.

“Ouch! Calm the fuck down Kane,” commands a voice with one of the stupidest Canadian accents ever.

Patrick stops struggling and opens his eyes.

To the right of him is Letang, to the left of him Staal, and right in front, pinning him to the glass of the snake exhibit, is Crosby’s bodyguard and number one fan, Evgeni Malkin.

“Fuck, uh, hey guys.”

“You no hey guys us,” Malkin tells him with a frown.

“Ow! Hey, Malkin, Stahp, why!”

“You hurt Sid.”

“I didn’t mean to, but it’s okay now anyways! We made up, you can stop crushing me now. Sid’s gonna find us and he’s gonna yell at you.”

“Ha, that’s where you’re wrong,” Staal interjects smugly. “Sid hates snakes, he’d never look for you here...”

The, ‘there is no hope for you,’ is heavily implied, and Kaner might be a little worried right now.

“I know make up. Sid call and tell me you boyfriend, but I not approve. You make bad boyfriend and hurt Sid again, that I not allow. You no longer get to see Sid, you understand Patrick Kane?”

Malkin’s fingers are digging painfully into his shoulders.

Letang looks ready to beat his face in.

Staal has a stupid look on his face, but then again, he always looks kind of slow.

All of them are in complete violation of his personal space, and its all kind of too much for him right now, so Patrick does the rational thing and flees.

He drops to his knees, escaping Malkin’s grasp, and then hops up and bolts out of the reptile house, running like there are three very angry, and collectively not that good looking, hockey players ready to beat him to a pulp and feed him to the snakes.

Patrick can hear them coming after him, and right now it’s reach Sid or die.

“Stop!” Staal yells after him like that would actually do something.

“Shut up Staal, why are you so stupid,” Patrick can’t help but yell back over his shoulder. He looks to see the look on Staal's face and ends up running into a poll.

Before he can remove himself from the fetal position and continue his fleeing, they are upon him. Letang halls him up, and holds him like he’s never letting go, but not in a romantic way, in like a murdery way.

“Stop making this difficult and we’ll hurt you less,” says the dirty French Canadian man.

“Get a haircut.”

“Why are you so mean?” Staal whines.

“Because you fuckers are trying to come in the way of true love! But you asshats probably never read Twilight and couldn’t even recognize it if it came up and pointed out how freaky your bone structure is.”

“Hey.”

“Shut up Staal. Let me go.”

“Make us.”

“Great job at creating unnecessary sexual tension Staal.”

“Both of you two, just shut up,” the hippie with the ugly hair sighs.

“What did you say?” Malkin asks, with a really stupid, deep thought look on his face.

“That you’re all asshats and should mind your own fucking business?”

“No, about you and Sid. You love Sid.”

“No I don’t.”

Malkin nudges Letang out the way, and takes up the general rudeness and invasion of Patrick’s personal space.

“You said you love Sid.”

“No I didn’t.”

Patrick starts to struggle.

“If you love Sid, do not hurt him.”

“I didn’t mean to! No one here wants to hurt Sid, you need to calm the fuck down.”

“What are you all doing?”

Uh-oh

A very confused and slightly annoyed Sid has arrived on scene, Kaner is not quite sure if that will actually help his situation.

“Patrick Kane love you Sid.”

Kaner’s heart might have stopped right then.

Sid just shrugs.

“Sure Geno, but I think you should stop now.”

“You love him too Sid?”

“We just started dating yesterday Geno.”

Malkin takes a second to respond, he looks Sidney up and down, eyes Kaner a bit, releases him, and then nods like he actually knows English and understands what’s going on.

“I see, I see, go to Sid, Patrick Kane, but I always watching.”

And with that, a glare from Staal, and a hair flip from Letang, they are finally leaving Kaner the fuck alone.

“We'll that was something,” Patrick exclaims, only slightly indignantly, and brushes himself off for some fucking reason. “I kind of hate your friends dude. How the fuck did they know we were here?”

That earns him a dirty look from Sid.

“Maybe if you weren't running off, you wouldn't find yourself in situations like that.”

“They fucking snatched me! I thought I was going to die! And are we going to ignore the fact that they somehow knew we were here, that shit is really fucking creepy.”

“I never got to see the otters,” Sid huffs, and turns to walk away, in no way comprehending the seriousness of the situation. His friends are fucking creepy and he needs to realize that.

Patrick sighs, and catches up with him.

“Next time, we'll see the otters, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

[][][]

 

That night, they have salad for dinner and Patrick tries to get Sid to understand the greatness of Twilight, he does not succeed.

And in the morning they have protein shakes and cereal, over which Patrick informs Sid of his plans for the day.

“We're going to IKEA and getting you some furniture.”

“I like the furniture I already have,” Sidney frowns at him.

“What furniture.”

“I have that arm chair and my bed.”

“You need more fucking furniture than that.”

“But I don't.”

“Just come to IKEA with me.”

“Fine.”

Of course Sid pouts the whole way there, that's kind of his thing, pouting all the fucking time. As soon as they get there though, he takes charge, because he's a bossy mofo.

“I guess couches first,” Sid decides.

They make their way through the maze that is IKEA and eventually find the couches.

Kaner is immediately drawn to a huge, black leather couch.

“Swag!” He announces and throws himself down on it.

Patrick got bomb ass taste. He could be like an interior designer he's so good at picking shit out.

Sid decides to be an asshole though and inspect the couch first. He kind of kicks the side of it, runs his hand up and down the material, reads the description, and then hesitantly takes a seat next to Patrick.

“I don't know,” says the buzz kill.

“Come on Sid, this one's so cool. I like it so much.”

“You didn't even look at the other ones, we have to compare.”

“But we don't. Let's just go with my awesome taste in shit and get this one.”

“But I don't know if I'll ever use it.”

“It's okay, I will.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They go buy the couch, and after some struggle and maneuvering, they eventually get enough of it into Sid's car for them to take it back home.

The armchair gets pushed off to the side, making room for the couch to find a good and permanent place and fill up all the empty space.

“I really like this couch.”

“Me too.”

[][][]

Not a lot of emotion is shown on Patrick's departure.

He does get a hug though, and it is a very good hug.

Kaner extends a hand to Sid, thinking a firm handshake would be the most affection he'll be receiving, but Sid is in a giving mood.

He takes Patrick's hand and pulls him closer. Sid wraps his arms around Patrick and holds him tight.

“See you in the finals yeah?” Sid asks into the side of Patrick's head.

“Yeah,” Patrick promises and squeezes back.

[][][]

Playoffs are hell.

There is no other way to put it.

Kaner tries calling Sid, but is shot down, being told no communication allowed, they’re serious rivals now.

No fraternizing with the enemy.

Need to focus only on the game.

No distractions.

Just so much bullshit.

It sucks, but Patrick somehow manages.

First round they do end up playing the Sharks, and win the series pretty easily.

Second round Canucks. It gets pretty intense. Kesler may be his boy, but Kaner has no problem making him cry for the cup and the chance to see Sid in the finals. Over time, game 7 they win.

Third round. Patrick is so ready to see Sid again. The Pens have been doing amazing, they’re definitely going all the way, and like hell Patrick’s going to be the one to not make it there. So he pushes and he fights, and somehow they make get the puck past Quick and they make it.

But whatever they had going for them, kind of disappears in the finals.

They lose, kind of bad. It’s not a sweep though, they do manage to win one of the games. But still, it's pretty awful.

After the final game, Patrick shower’s and goes back to the hotel. He stays there, moping and stewing in his general frustration and really wishing he was with Sid until he can’t take it anymore.

Once again, Patrick is knocking in Sid’s front door with no prior warning.

Maybe he should have called ahead. Sid probably isn’t even there, he did just win the fucking cup, but still, Patrick knocks, and hopes.

Almost immediately, the front door is pulled open by a flushed and grinning Sid.

“Geno said you would come,” he says breathlessly before pulling Patrick inside.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

They stand there, looking at each other.

Patrick’s not so sure about Sid, but he’s definitely having a lot of emotions right now, and isn’t quite too sure how to act on them.

“Umm...” he weakly attempts.

“I think I would like to have sex with you right now.”

Oh, well okay then. Fucking awesome.

“Yes,” Patrick yells, temporarily losing control over the volume of his voice.

This a very pleasant surprise.

Sidney takes Patrick’s hand and leads him to the bedroom.

“Um, I have everything we need,” Sid informs him. “And um, I’ve been reading up on how to do this so I think I’m pretty prepared. Do you want to be the top or, um, the bottom one?”

Patrick can’t help but chuckle at Sid’s nervousness. Sure, he’s panicking on the inside right now also, but Sid’s being just so fucking adorable right now, and it’s giving him even more feelings that he doesn’t really know how to deal with.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing Sid,” Patrick shakes his head. He sits down on the bed and takes up Sid’s hand to tug him down next to him.“I’ll bottom, you top. You totally gave it to me good in the finals, might as well give it to me good in the bedroom also.”

“Okay, sure.”

“So,” he says, face to face with Sidney and he can feel his breath on his face. “Uh, we could start now? That’d be cool.”

Sidney nods with all the focus he usually gives plays, and their lips meet. Sidney deepens the kiss and straddles his waist and Patrick can see his hard-on outlining his pants and fuck if that doesn’t do something to him.

“Fuck Sid, all the things I would do to you,” Patrick moans into his mouth, unintentionally mimicking all of the bad gay porn he’s been watching for years.

Sid takes off his own shirt and he’s actually pretty pasty and pale but has nice abs. Sid tugs at the end of Patrick’s shirt until he postures himself up a little bit and then they’re both there, shirtless, staring at each other.

Patrick runs a hand down Sid’s stomach, fingers following the grooves of well-defined abs.

“You’re fucking ripped you know that,” Patrick says, slightly in awe.

“Yeah.”

“Shut up.”

Patrick motions for Sid to get off and then pushes him down onto the bed.

Patrick travels down Sid’s body, from neck to hip bone, kissing every inch like he’s imagined doing so many times.

Sid lets out a moan as Patrick comes back up and sucks small bruises on the nape of his neck.

“That’s, I-”

Sid is all flushed and incoherent and babbley and all of it is turning Patrick on so fucking much.

“I want to wear your jersey as you fuck me into to the mattress,” he whispers in Sid’s ear.

That earns him a good reaction, Sid's hips buck up and Patrick hands fly down to unzip Sid’s pants.

Not fast enough though.

Sid lets out a groan and his body almost convulses, before he goes still and is breathing hard.

Patrick places a hand onto Sid's crotch and feels a growing wet patch.

He doesn’t mean to be a dick, but he really can’t help it and ends up laugh into Sid’s hair.

“Sorry,” Sid mumbles and turns his blushing face away.

Patrick brings a hand up to turn Sid's face back to his.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he says, grinning at Sid. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get this shit right.”


End file.
